Gabe Lapalombella
Taylor Sheridan has arguably been one of Hollywood’s most interesting screenwriters to watch. While starting as an actor, it was not until he wrote 2015’s Denis Villeneuve film Sicario that he became a household name. This included writing credits on films such as Hell or High Water, Wind River, and Sicario’s sequel Sicario: Day of the Soldado. It wasn’t until the 2018 hit television series Yellowstone that Sheridan’s career pivoted. From that point onward, an entire television universe was born. This includes his latest effort, The Madison, starring Michelle Pfeiffer and Kurt Russell.
The Madison follows the story of the Clyburn family, led by the patriarch and matriarch Preston (Russell) and Stacy Clyburn (Pfeiffer). When tragedy strikes, the Clyburns are forced to pick up the pieces. This involves a vacation in rural Montana, where the family hopes to properly process their grief. What follows is a story that explores the five stages of grief through the lens of a family struggling to get through it together. Such a process includes both the comedy and sorrow that come along with it.
In the pantheon of Taylor Sheridan content, The Madison is a complete shift from what audiences may expect. Instead of a Western-esque Soprano’s story (akin to Yellowstone), The Madison is something else entirely. Sheridan trades his cowboy and gangster tendencies for a familial drama. It’s best to state this for the diehard Yellowstone followers, as they will be shocked by the tonal shift. With such a swing in tones, it is an understatement to say those fans will be disappointed. Over six episodes, the show takes its time exploring the moral quandary of grief itself. Thankfully, with the actors assembled, the results are bountiful.
As Stacy, Michel Pfeiffer is asked to showcase a considerable emotional range. This includes a rather subtle balance of humor in contrast with emotional distress. An actress of Pfeiffer’s caliber does more than just deliver a compelling character. She exudes a raw and unflinching portrayal of grief personified. Stacy is a character riddled with so much pain, you would be inhumane not to sympathize with her. Pfeiffer embodies a deep emotional honesty that makes it impossible not to connect with her. Simultaneously, her moments of joy and catharsis offer an emotional release for both her and the audience. It’s a balance of tones and ideologies that Pfeiffer beautifully conveys. Granted, that would not be possible without her co-star Kurt Russell.
If the character Stacy is icy, Preston can be described as the warmth that offsets her. Such performances work in perfect synchronicity with one another. Russell’s usual charm is present, but matched with an equally effective tenderness. To put it plainly, Russell makes the character instantly likable. That especially includes sequences with Preston’s brother, Paul (Matthew Fox), allowing Russell to exude a charming brotherly bond with real heart on display. Such lead performances help create a mostly effective emotional journey, though it is far from perfect. As with any Taylor Sheriden project, the fatal flaws in his writing remain on full display over the season.
Every Taylor Sheridan project has copious amounts of male machismo interwoven throughout. This includes the thematics of the American West and a general old-fashioned American sensibility. In The Madison, Sheridan portrays a similar sensibility to a considerable degree, with the same bright flaw in every one of his television series. He struggles to write his supporting characters, with a particular repetitive quality in his female characters. Unfortunately, The Madison struggles with the same flaw.
Having seen almost all of his series, The Madison confirms that Sheridan cannot write female characters. Besides Pfeiffer’s dynamic lead portrayal, every other female character is reduced to an archetype. This includes the tough-as-nails oldest daughter, the naive, Brabie-esque middle child, and the out-of-touch young children (or, in The Madisons’ case, grandchildren) characters. To put it plainly, these characters don’t have genuine personalities. Instead, they are nothing more than bland archetypes, feeling like anything but real people. That makes anytime Pfeiffer or Russell is not on screen sorely lacking.
To be clear, such criticism is no fault of the actors in said supporting roles. The fault lies with Sheridan’s writing. As someone who has seen most everything he has done, The Madison helped clarify the root of that problem. Sheridan simply seems uninterested in fleshing out his surrounding characters. His leads exude depth and nuance, whereas his supporting players are written in bland narrative corners. This includes characterization from needless romantic subplots and flat comedic moments. The Madison has plenty of those moments that land with a resounding thud each time. The comedy is never remotely funny, and the romances all feel like bad 1980s romantic comedies. Such a flaw is now shining so brightly in this series that it is becoming difficult to ignore. Thankfully, some of that can be forgiven with the central performances.
Like any Taylor Sheridan project, The Madison is far from perfect. The series suffers from the same flaws that make it feel quite similar to his other projects. What makes this latest effort slightly above the pack is the attempt to try something different. The quiet moments of grief and sorrow are surprisingly effective. Counterbalanced by moments of random joy, the series’ real heart shines bright. That said, none of it would be possible without Michelle Pfieffer and Kurt Russell leading the charge.
With season two reportedly already filmed, I can only hope The Madison has learned from the mistakes of this first season. For now, viewers are left with something effective but not entirely memorable.
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